


He could afford to lose anything but his mind

by annabeth_at_the_helm



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Lack of Sleep, drugs are not involved, psychedelics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24335923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_at_the_helm/pseuds/annabeth_at_the_helm
Summary: "The flying blue piggies are trying to take down the fort with bubblegum," Hawkeye slurred, listing to the left as he lurched towards the Swamp.
Relationships: "Trapper" John McIntyre & Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Kudos: 13
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	He could afford to lose anything but his mind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for "psychedelics" on my [Banned Together Bingo card](https://bannedtogetherbingo2020.tumblr.com/rules). I hope this counts? The reference for the book that was banned is "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and so I interpreted the prompt as simply trippy, even without drugs.

"The flying blue piggies are trying to take down the fort with bubblegum," Hawkeye slurred, listing to the left as he lurched towards the Swamp. He blinked his eyes furiously, trying to dispel the large blue person with the hanging nose. The nose went all the way down to his chin like a dangly appendage and was bright green.

"All right, Hawk, ya need some rest," Trapper was saying, but when Hawkeye tried to focus on him, all he could see were some sparkles in a vague man-shape. Even that shifted as he watched, though, amorphous bubbles fluttering up towards the sky.

"I dunno why," he muttered to a dancing rosebush. Which was weird: they had rosebushes in the middle of the M*A*S*H unit? But wait, wasn't he back home, in Crabapple Cove? They sure had rosebushes there, though they didn't dance the square dance like this one was doing.

"Because you're losin' your grip on reality," Trapper replied, yanking Hawkeye back upright by virtue of the stranglehold he had on Hawkeye's elbow. "Actually, I think ya lost it already. You haven't slept in four days, Hawk. Ya need to sleep."

"Trap? D'you see that square dancing pepper bush?" Hawkeye said, his voice rough and crackling. "I coulda sworn… you know, I never thanked my mom for her sweater."

Trapper made a sound like a gust of wind down a chute, and at the bottom were upside down trees with slithery red berries growing out from the roots. Hawkeye was mumbling, but he was no longer sure what he was saying, just that it probably had something to do with the fact that he was walking on a flat circle of sky that had fallen from the ceiling.

It was like a spotlight of sky; it followed beneath his feet wherever he went. Which was apparently an ice castle in July, only it smelled like sweat socks and farts. He wondered who was responsible for the scent of that air freshener.

"It can't sell very well," he mumbled to himself, causing Trapper to pause as Hawkeye stumbled to a halt and nearly fell face first into the sky puddle.

"What can't sell very well, Hawk?" Trapper asked. Hawkeye turned bleary eyes onto him—had he always had only one arm but four noses, with blue thorns for eyebrows?—and had to make a few attempts before he grabbed onto, well, it was something, he didn't recognize it.

"Gym shorts and farts air freshener!" he said distinctly, proud when it came out clearly. Though from Trapper's exhalation of breath, maybe it had been indistinguishable from mere noise, like the white noise the anesthesia machines made in the OR. "The OR! I'm needed in the OR in twenty minutes—gotta hop on a b-big bird? and go to Korea—"

"No, Hawk. The only place you're wanted is your bed."

"My bed can talk?" Hawkeye brightened. "Does it say nice things about me? Like how good I am at sex?"

"Whether you're good at sex is a topic for another day, Hawk," Trapper said wearily. "Please. Go get in bed and sleep it off. That's my medical opinion as a doctor and all that."

"Maybe my bed will whisper sweet nothings in my ear," Hawkeye said, hardly even surprised when a giant olive drab cloud rushed up to his face. "Smells funky, this cloud. I thought cumulonimbus clouds had a sweet scent, like sugared popcorn." He yawned. "Trap?"

But if Trapper replied, Hawkeye didn't notice. Sleep had claimed his exhausted body—and overstimulated mind—at last.

END


End file.
